


The Dance

by Duckay



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Blow Jobs, Friends With Benefits, Frottage, M/M, Mild Voyeurism, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shower Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-30
Updated: 2016-03-30
Packaged: 2018-05-30 02:27:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6404989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Duckay/pseuds/Duckay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It couldn't be more apparent from the look on Dean's face what he wanted, but that was part of the dance too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Dance

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't really written anything in over a year, but I had some ideas dancing about so this is really just some PWP to get some creative juices flowing. 
> 
> Set ambiguously in time.

Shampoo ran in rivers down the muscled lines of Roman's body. Dean didn't bother to hide the faint, hungry smile; Roman was literally just washing his hair, not doing anything particularly suggestive, and yet...

Roman tilted his head back to rinse the last of the lather out, and Dean made a soft noise in his throat. At this moment, Roman finally opened his eyes.

"What the hell are you doing in here?"

Dean shrugged, a cheeky and frankly delighted grin plastered across his features. "You left the door open."

These words earned a faintly disgruntled huff. "Not so you could stand in the doorway staring."

"What for, then?"

This was part of the dance. Roman was never inclined to come out and directly say why, in fact, he had left the bathroom door open. It was always a happy accident, or just that he didn't really care. So he dodged the question with one of his own. "What do you want?"

It couldn't be more apparent from the look on Dean's face what he wanted, but that was part of the dance too. If they said it out loud, that would make things too real, would invite discussion and meaningful talks about the future. Best just to keep things the way they were. They worked that way, so why mess about? "Just wondering, are we getting room service or what?" His eyes flicked down as he spoke. Roman was quite hard under his friend's gaze already.

Roman followed the gaze down and a smile tugged at his lips. "What?" His hands continued to move about his body - soaping up his chest and arms over and over distractedly. 

"Room service," Dean repeated, looking up briefly to make eye contact before dropping his gaze again, more or less blatantly leering. That was safe. As long as it wasn't words, it was okay. 

Roman stepped out of the shower, then, without turning it off. He made no move to grab a towel, water dripping off his body and puddling on the floor around him. The water was still running behind him. Dean made no move to approach, just tracking his movements with his eyes while remaining still in the doorframe. Once Roman was within what would reasonably be called his personal space, Dean lifted a hand to his friend's chest. He opened his mouth to speak, but was silenced by the press of lips against his own and the crush of a wet body against his chest, pushing him against the doorframe.

Dean kissed back eagerly - much more eagerly than his unaffected dialogue would have implied. One hand tangled in Roman's soaking wet hair at the base of his scalp, while the other slid down his chest to his hip - but very deliberately no further. He whined softly as Roman pulled back, pressing their foreheads together, and the fingers on his friend's hip dug in a little in protest. "Thanks a lot, big guy. My shirt's all wet now." He couldn't quite hold back the slight laugh that accompanied that, but he tilted his head upward at the same moment, trying to recapture the kiss. 

Suddenly, it felt like, he could feel Roman's hands tugging at the hem at his lower back, hiking it up his body. Dean shivered, just slightly - partly because of the cool air hitting his now slightly damp skin, and partly because the feeling of Roman's fingers playing across his lower back was sending streaks of lightning up and down his body. He could feel himself throbbing with need, all the more so when he felt the damp pressure of Roman's head dropping to his shoulder and lips pressing against his throat. At the same time, he felt the insistent pressure of Roman's hips tilting forward, bare flesh pressing into his denim jeans. Dean let the fingers at Roman's hip drop slightly lower, teasing but not yet touching.

This earned a needy growl, and the lips at his throat turned to an insistent breath as he heard the low murmur, "Do something or --"

The end of the sentence was lost as Dean pulled both hands back from his friend and started pulling at his own shirt. Roman slid back to give him space as Dean pulled his shirt off, dropping it unceremoniously into the puddle on the floor. The next moment, Dean had followed it, falling to his knees on top of the sodden, crumpled shirt.

"Like this?" He asked, faux-innocence dazzling in his eyes as he leaned forward, taking Roman's hips in each hand for support. Soon, Roman's hands were on either side of his head, thumbs stroking at his jaw as he took the other man into his mouth, first lightly bobbing his mouth over just the head then taking him deeper. The fingers of Dean's left hand dug into the flesh around Roman's hip, while his right moved down to the base of his cock.

The tiled floor wasn't doing any favours for his knees, though, so he pulled back, shifting his weight a little and looking up at his friend again. Roman's eyes had been closed, but they snapped open as Dean stopped. A faint look of irritation passed over his face fleetingly, but it was with a smile that he attempted to gently guide Dean's head forward again.

Dean shook his head no, and earned himself a displeased noise from Roman's throat, something halfway between a whine and a growl. As he got to his feet fumbling at his zipper, though, Roman seemed to understand, and he felt himself tugged into the tiny hotel shower almost before his jeans were actually fully off.

Once there, he wasted no time pressing Roman against the shower wall, one hand returning to the nape of his neck, while the fingers of the other hand trailed down the man's bicep, tracing the lines of his tattoo from memory. The hot water beat down over his hair and down his back, energising him, while his hips thrust forward, his erection seeking friction against Roman's. He drank down the soft moan of pleasure as their hips ground together, moving in a practiced synchronicity, and his fingers dug a little deeper into the other man's flesh, pinning Roman's arm against the wall. 

And then, Dean felt Roman's other arm wrap around his body, hand landing on his ass, pulling him in even more closely, as though that were possible, and kneading gently at him.

It was a mess, of tongues and lips and friction, but it was a mess they had experienced many times before, and when Dean pulled back from the kiss and released Roman's arm, his fingers tightening in the mass of dark hair, that was a signal, of sorts. His hips bucked a few times more, sloppily, against Roman's as his lips hungrily sought the other man's throat and he bit down sharply as he came. Roman's orgasm followed shortly thereafter with a noise almost like a growl, and then their bodies collapsed against one another, silent except for their heavy breathing and the steady patter of the shower.

Then, gradually, they pulled their entangled bodies apart; Dean withdrew his fingers from Roman's hair and shuffled back a little to give them both space to clean themselves up - not that there was really sufficient room for the two large men in the rather undersized shower. It was eventually Roman who spoke, and his tone was so casual it was as though nothing had happened since Dean had asked about room service. 

If anyone had ever asked, they would have been told that nothing did happen.

"We could always go out somewhere. I wouldn't mind that."

"Nah, I'm pretty tired," Dean said easily, making a grab for the soap and lathering himself. He elbowed Roman a little in the process, but neither of them mentioned it.

"Fair enough," Roman said with a slight shrug, pushing at the shower door with one hand and slipping past Dean. He pressed his lips against Dean's shoulder as he passed, the contact so brief it might almost have not happened. "I'll leave you a towel, babe."

If he noticed the way that Dean's shoulders tensed at the endearment, he made no sign of it. 

Dean stayed in the shower for longer than strictly necessary, but when he got out it was as though everything had been forgotten.


End file.
